Call It A Trade Off
by CPCoulter Writes My Canon
Summary: Logan looked over at the brunette, "Give me your black button up." Julian blinked, "I'm wearing it?" Jogan fic BASED OFF CP COULTER'S DALTON


"I don't like it."

Brown eyes rolled heavenward and the handsome actor slumped back into the wall of Logan's room. The aforementioned blond was frowning at his reflection for the third time that minute.

"Then try a different one, Oh Mighty One?" Julian offered tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Being hauled out of his bed at nine am on a Saturday had not exactly been his plan. After shooting had wrapped two weeks ago it had taken him a long time to work off the exhaustion.

"I don't _have _another one, moron. Not one that I can wear to breakfast."

A heavy sigh was all Logan got from his irritated companion. Heading back into the closet, he emerged seconds later wearing a handsome blue shirt that hugged his muscles in all the right places.

"Whose is that?" Julian asked in confusion, he'd seen that shirt before, hadn't he? Granted, he, Derek and Logan had been sharing clothes since freshman year, but he was sure he'd seen that somewhere before.

"Mine."

"Wasn't Derek wearing it last week?"

"It's mine. I had his green one so he took my blue one."

Julian gave an "ah" of understanding, sinking back against the wall, making a mental note to borrow it at some point.

Logan tugged the dark blue shirt up over his head, mussing the long strands of blond hair. From his position against the wall, Julian let his eyes briefly run down the toned body in front of him, the muscles flexing with every small move he made. The well shaped V-lines of his hips caught Julian's eyes, making his mouth dry out; dark brown eyes dragged slowly down the trail of blond hair that disappeared into the waistband of Logan's pants.

"Could you hurry up?" Julian snapped, "Or are you enjoying watching your body in the mirror?"

Logan's eyebrow quirked, "Can I borrow your black button up?"

The actor blinked, "I'm _wearing_ it."

"So? You only just put it on, and I want to wear it. It looks good with these jeans and I'm meeting Blaine in ten minutes."

Ah, Blaine. The name sent an icy knife straight between Julian's smirked, long legs stepping closer until he was standing mere centimeters from the brunette actor, oblivious to his thudding heart. Sinfully close, Logan raised another eyebrow but rolled his eyes.

"Please?"

Forcing a cool smirk onto his face, Julian raised his chin defiantly, "No."

"Jules don't make me beg."

An image of Logan on his knees, green eyes wide and hazy, mouth red and panting flashed through Julian's head. Wet lips parting as breathy pants filled his ears, "_Please_, Jules, _please_."

The brunette gave his head a small shake, but stared Logan directly in the eyes, "No."

Logan growled slightly in his chest, forcing blood away from Julian's brain and into other, much….lower parts of his body. Looking away from the piercing green eyes, Julian's fell onto the pill bottle rested atop the handsome antique desk.

Right where he'd left it last night.

Untouched.

"One condition, Your Almighty Royal Highness," He said, his voice huskier than he had intended. Logan, however, failed to notice, or didn't feel the need to comment if he did.

"I'm listening."

Julian paused, Logan's proximity becoming more obvious by the second as the blond leant closer, trying to hear what Julian would say. He could say anything, granted Logan wouldn't do it, but he could say anything. He could tell Logan to kiss him, touch him, throw him onto the bed and make him moan and scream.

"Take your meds," he whispered, silently cursing at how soft his voice had come out.

Logan's brow furrowed, and he leant closer, "What?"

"Take. Your. Meds." Julian said clearly and slowly, leaning boldly up to Logan's face.

Green eyes narrowed dangerously, "Jules." He said warningly.

"You want the shirt, take the meds. They're there for a _reason, _Wright."

The clock showed five minutes until Blaine (who the hell named their kid that? Julian wondered bitterly) arrived, and Logan was still bare-chested and desperate. With a heavy sigh, the blond stalked over to the desk, throwing two pills into his hand.

"Take off your shirt." He ordered from across the room.

Oh good God, Julian had dreamed of Logan saying that. Julian pressed into the bed, whining as talented hands traced across his abs, his upper chest, hips, even lower….

"Jules. Take off your shirt, or I'm not taking them. I don't trust you."

Julian pretended to look hurt, but stalked forward, slowly popping the buttons of his black button up shirt. Shrugging it off, he held back, "Take your meds first."

He stared Logan down, almost daring him to challenge what he had just said. The handsome blond stared back, but surrendered, swallowing down the two pills.

"Now."

Logan stepped forward, reaching for the shirt, "Give it to me."

Their chests touched, warm skin pressing to warm skin. Fire curled low in Julian's stomach, tingles shooting up his spine, aches burning in his chest. So many ideas rose in his mind; Logan on the bed, his legs spread wide; Logan pressed against the desk, groaning and whining; Logan's fingers pulling uselessly at Julian's hair and the carpet as the actor sucked on his hard member.

The shirt was out of his hands before he could even contemplate what had just happened. The tall blond shrugged the shirt on, buttoning it quickly, Julian's eyes scanning as much of Logan's chest as possible before the fabric hid it from view.

Content, Logan tossed the dark blue shirt he had previously worn over to Julian, "Put that one on, whenever you get half naked, fan girls start coming out of the walls screaming."

Julian snorted, "Prick." But he pulled the blue shirt over his head, catching the briefest scent of Logan's shampoo and aftershave on the fabric.

He had just finished straightening the shirt when three soft knocks hit the door, and a curly head poked through the small opening.

"Hi Logan," Blaine said shyly, "Ready to go?"

Logan's face lit up, causing Julian's stomach to curl tight. Stupid Hobbit.

The blond walked forward, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist, "Sure. Jules? Lock the door when you leave, and I want my shirt back."

And just like that they were gone.

Unsure what to do, Julian sank down onto Derek's bed, head in his hands.

Fucking hell.

Logan was taking over his life; his dreams; his every waking hour. He was Julian _freaking _Larson; he didn't have these kind of feelings. What the hell was he going to do?

Almost as if a sign from above, Julian's cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. For a fleeting second, Julian thought it was Logan, but when his manager's name flickered onto the screen, he breathed a heavy sigh.

_New movie script, you're the first preference of the director, no audition necessary. Email the script?_

He stared hard at his phone, clenching his fist around it. The sight of Logan's huge smile, strong arms wrapped protectively around that stupid Hobbit's shoulders; long fingers tangled with that dumb midget's continued to replay in his head. Heat touched his eyelids but the actor refused to cry. Shaking, he punched out his reply.

_No need for script. I'm in._

Tomorrow morning he'd be on a plane to the beautiful freedom that was Hollywood. And away from Logan. Derek was out for the day, stringing along some poor unsuspecting girl (he wasn't sure if it was Monica, Melody, or Margaret, and in all honesty he wasn't sure Derek knew either) but he would see him later that afternoon. Logan was going to breakfast with Blaine, that would undoubtedly bleed into a lunch, while would lead to dinner, and a late night of singing in Warbler Hall.

No goodbyes necessary for Logan, it seemed.

Not face to face, anyway.

Reaching for his phone, he scrolled through the contacts, typing out a quick goodbye to Logan.

_Signed to new movie, leaving tomorrow morning._

He tilted his head, re-reading the message a few times, contemplating adding a 'goodbye'; or a 'catch up before I leave?' or perhaps even a snarky 'don't get into trouble without me to keep you sane'. After a few moments of heavy contemplation, he hastily added a final sentence.

_I want my shirt back_

Julian hit send before he had time to think, watching as the words "MESSAGE SENT" blinked on his screen. Vibrations from Logan's bed caused him to look up, finding the small black phone buzzing happily.

Logan had left his phone behind.

No interruptions when he was with Blaine.

And there was that dagger in his left lung again. How convenient.

* * *

It was a whole day before Julian got a reply, plane touching down at a private airstrip. His phone buzzed in his pocket in the limousine as Hollywood scenes blurred past Julian's window. Curiosity getting the better of him, Julian checked his inbox. Above Derek's message (_ur leaving me with L & B 4 god knows how long? Way 2 stick 2gether Jules, c u wen u get back prick) _was a message from Logan.

_Thanks for the heads up, Jules. Nice to know you care enough for a face to face goodbye. Don't be a prick, call me sometime._

He snorted; Logan was pissy because he didn't get a proper goodbye? The thought warmed Julian's heart somewhat, though he never would admit it. He glanced at the message, noticing that there was a small part added to the end.

_You left without saying goodbye. I'm keeping the shirt. Call it a trade off._

Julian laughed to himself, hitting the keypad with his fingers as the limo pulled up the destination.

_Whatever you think Your Highness, buy your own fucking shirt._


End file.
